Dancing in the Moonlight
by Irene Moriarty xx
Summary: Sherlolly one-shot, fluff. Molly goes to find Sherlock she sees him leaving John and Mary's wedding. I had this story idea floating around in my head for a while, and now that I have an account I decided to publish it. Hope you guys like it! -Irene xx


Sherlock watched John and Mary waltz away, smiling, lost in joy and love for each other. A wide grin involuntarily spread across his face. He was not a man of emotion, but seeing them so happy together made his own heart rejoice. John Watson had been through so much, it was what he deserved. Now a husband, and a father-to-be, things would be changing. For the better.

Sherlock stepped back on to the stage and folded the music up into perfect thirds, sliding it neatly into an envelope on the stand. _Waltz for John and Mary. By Sherlock Holmes._ He glanced around the room, spotting Janine. She gave him a thumbs-up, but then turned away to dance with someone else.

Sherlock sighed and looked at the people dancing around him once more. He could dance very well, actually, but it would not be much use in this situation, seeing as he had no one to dance with. A pang of loneliness shot through him, surprising him temporarily. _You mustn't get sentimental_ , he chided himself.

Squeezing through the dense crowd, he made his way towards the door, invisible to anyone and everyone. No one noticed him stepping outside into the cool night air, the grass crunching softly beneath his swift feet. He swung his large black coat over him, pulling the collar up to shield his face. It was time to go home.

ooOoo

"Are you calling me stupid?" Tom retorted angrily.

"Well, yeah, I guess I am!" Molly cut. "Seriously, a meat dagger?"

A flash of hurt passed over Tom's face. Molly took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"Listen Molls," Tom continued, a bit quieter, careful not to attract Mrs. Hudson's attention. "You're a great person, and I really like hanging out with you."

Molly maintained a look of innocent curiosity on her face, though she already knew what was coming next.

"It's just, we're getting into so many disagreements. Maybe...maybe this isn't a good idea." Tom finished, looking extremely worried. Molly expected to be devastated, mad even, but instead only felt indifferent. It had been coming on for a while, and Molly found herself constantly annoyed whenever she was in Tom's company. Perhaps this break-up was for the best.

"I'm sorry." Tom added, as an afterthought.

"No, really, it's okay." Her calm voice surprised herself. "I understand." Molly quickly drained the rest of her drink, and turned around to set it down, just as she saw Sherlock, looking lost and alone, making his way to the exit.

"I'll see you later." Molly muttered absentmindedly, grabbing her coat. The door was closing behind Sherlock, but she slipped out behind him.

Sherlock was strolling down the hill, his coat snugly wrapped around his pale, svelte figure. His shoulders were hunched, as if an invisible force were pushing down upon them.

"Sherlock?" Molly called. The detective stopped in his tracks. He straightened up a little, before turning around to face her.

"Yes, Miss Hooper?" He replied, his baritone voice ringing above the song of crickets.

"Where are you going?" Molly asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

He gave her a tight smile, but it was fleeting. "Yes, I really am. The party was a bit," Sherlock inhaled deeply, "loud, for my taste."

Molly chuckled. "I guess I'm not the only one who thought so then." She instantly regretted her words, for Sherlock's brow creased and he tilted his head.

"How so?" He inquired, intrigued.

"Oh, nothing," Molly shrugged, her face turning red. "Just like you said, it's noisy and crowded, and most of the people can't even dance!" Sherlock smirked, and it took a moment for Molly to realize why.

"I hear you're an excellent dancer." Molly piped up.

"I believe I am." If this were coming from any other person, Molly would've felt annoyed. Yet it was Sherlock, and he wasn't trying to be narcissistic. He was just being bluntly truthful. "I tutored John, for his wedding. Awfully slow learner, but he's not bad." Sherlock regarded her for a moment. "Would you like me to teach you a couple things?"

"Sure," Molly hesitated, but realized that since she was officially single again, there was nothing to be guilty about. Sherlock started walking up to her, until he was only a few inches away. He took her small hand in his, and placed his other one a few inches above her waist. He then instructed Molly to put her hand on his shoulder.

Normally Molly wasn't one who liked to be touched, especially by a man. But for some strange reason she felt completely comfortable with Sherlock. Perhaps it was the way Sherlock held himself, and her for that matter, or maybe it was just the fact that Sherlock would never be romantically interested in anyone.

"What do I do next?" Molly asked him.

"Doesn't really matter," he replied. "Dancing is just about moving, really. We can do anything as long as we're careful not to step on each other's feet."

Molly laughed, and together they began to waltz. It went slow, at first, just a swaying motion, but soon they started making their way a little quicker down the hill and into a garden below.

The moon cast a beautiful glow across the plants, and the rough ground evened out into a neat stone path. As they danced, Molly became aware of water gurgling somewhere farther in, most likely from a fountain. The trees and flowers blended into a fragrant mix of rustling leaves, where the crickets chirped and the warm breeze blew. Molly drew herself closer to Sherlock, and was surprised to find that he smelled like cinnamon.

As they glided farther in, Molly's guess was proved correct: there was indeed a stone fountain with two swans. Molly's first thought was that it was all very romantic, then almost laughed at herself for her ridiculous wish.

Far away, a clock tower tolled midnight. Sherlock slowed down, and the pair of them came to a stop. Neither of them said anything for awhile, they just stood holding hands, listening to the water and feeling the breeze and inhaling the sweet scent of the garden.

Suddenly Sherlock leaned in, until his head was above her shoulder.

"I'm sorry about Tom," he whispered into her ear.

"It was for the best," Molly replied softly. "He was a sweet guy, but I just didn't love him."

Sherlock considered this thoughtfully. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I really don't know," she answered truthfully. "How about you?"

Sherlock pulled back, his blue eyes reflecting the stars. Molly's breath caught in her chest.

"Just once." They held each other's gaze for a moment, and suddenly, before Molly knew it, her lips were on his and they kissed, before Molly pulled back. She could almost visualize the gears in Sherlock's head spinning frantically, trying to process what had just happened. Molly bit her lip, instantly unsure whether she should've just done that or not.

But then this time he was the one moving closer, and kissed her back. He put his arms over her shoulders, and she hugged him tightly.

Time seemed to slow down, as everything around them fell away. There was just her and him, holding each other in their embrace, conveying a lifetime's worth of words through one kiss. She was his moon and he was her Earth, forever bonded, never to be separated.

They broke apart, Molly's arms still around Sherlock's neck, his own still resting behind hers.

"I wonder, Molly," Sherlock started quietly, "if you would care to join me on a date sometime?"

"I'd love to, Sherlock."

He smiled, the first truly happy smile Molly had ever seen on his face, and kissed her hand. Then with a swish of his coat, he walked down the garden path and disappeared, Molly's mouth still tingling from the touch of his soft lips.


End file.
